


The Damnation of Lovino Vargas

by SinfulApathy



Series: Supernatural Soulmates: Prumano Edition [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Demon Prussia (Hetalia), I'll add more tags as i go, M/M, Minor Character Death, Priest South Italy (Hetalia), Prumano - Freeform, Religious Themes, Soulmates, Supernatural Elements, There Will Be Sin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2018-10-16 11:56:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10570824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinfulApathy/pseuds/SinfulApathy
Summary: Lovino had never believed in the paranormal despite his grandfather's work as an exorcist and reluctantly becoming one himself. That is, until he comes face to face with a demon of his own.





	1. How a Broken Boy Became a Broken Man

_“So what do you say, kid?”_

_Lovino looked between the outstretched hand – pale but strong, a small constellation of scars mapping the skin –  and the man’s face. Sharp eyes stared back at him.  There was hellfire in his gaze, depravity in the curve of his lips._

_He took the hand without a word._

 

“Bad things are out there.”

That was what his grandfather had told him when Lovino was little more than a boy, spending lazy Sunday afternoons with the old man after mass while his parents had their date night. They’d sit together out on the porch, Lovino’s grandfather in his enormous rocker with Lovino perched on his lap. The Good Book would be supported by his grandfather’s much larger hands, and Lovino would turn the pages for him, heeding his grandfather’s advice to be careful and not tear them. It was an old book, but like his grandfather it wore its age well.

“What kind of things, Nonno?” Lovino had asked, cocking his head up at the old man with childlike curiosity. He had been innocent then, naïve.

He wanted to know what was out there.

But Nonno wouldn’t say. He only repeated himself with a little more emphasis (“ _Bad_ things, my boy”) and turned the page for himself. His hands had completely dwarfed Lovino’s at the time.  They were carpenter’s hands still even if the last thing Lovino had seen them make was the crib for his younger brother. Whatever was on that next page, though, seemed to disagree with him, as the next thing he’d done was close the book and set it aside. His grandfather had then announced that it was too nice of a day to be reading all day, and they had left to walk the streets of their little villa and buy some gelato.

 

He had been seven when Feliciano was born. Lovino was jealous at first from all the attention his brother received. His mom was always too busy holding Feliciano instead of him, his father too exhausted after work to spend as much time with the oldest Vargas son. It did mean he got to spend more time with his grandfather, which Lovino didn't mind. While his parents caught up on sleep and work, Lovino would accompany Nonno to the church where he worked. His grandfather liked to tell the story of how he had started out as a humble carpenter before becoming a priest, how he had practically built the church up with his own hands before taking over when the elderly priest before him had croaked. Lovino often caught him running his hand over a pew he had built many years ago, a look in his eyes that the boy had been too young to identify at the time. If he had to guess now, he would say his grandfather missed working with his hands all the time like he’d used to. The one time he had asked the man whether it was true, he wasn’t given a straight answer; all the old man would say was “God gives me purpose” and left it at that.

Sometimes, a chair would need repair, or the pulpit an adjustment. His grandfather would work on those things while Lovino ran through the empty rows, stifling giggles when the man called out for him to quit hiding. The reprimands, of course, only made Lovino more determined to cram himself into the smallest of nooks and crannies until his grandfather inevitably came to find him. His loud squeals at being pulled out from under a back-row pew would echo through the sanctuary, only growing in intensity when Lovino was picked up and carried back to the front. Nonno would go back to work, and Lovino would stay for a handful of minutes, if he was lucky, before racing off again.

Those had been the simplest times in his life. Lovino wouldn’t deny that he missed those days. The world had been easier back then, filled with light and promise.

 

Lovino was ten when his brother died.

They’d been playing in the yard, Feliciano finally old enough to stand on his own and run with short steps. Lovino could faintly still remember his babbling, always delighted-sounding, when he would toddle after his elder brother, hugging onto whatever part of Lovino he could. Lovino always let him. His jealousy had abated when he discovered it was kind of actually fun to play with Feliciano. He hadn’t realized how lonely being an only child was until he was no longer one.

“Lovi, Lovi! Truck!” Feliciano said, pointing to the garbage truck going down their street. His voice was piercing. There was no way to mistake when he spoke up. Either Feliciano was talking or he wasn’t.

Lovino had nodded, patting the soft hair atop the head pressed against his side. Feliciano’s hair was a much lighter shade than his own, but their mother had styled it so that it resembled Lovino’s. The two boys looked so alike in every family photo they had taken up to that point.

“Yes, truck. And what’s that one called?” Lovino asked, his finger pointing out a scooter going the opposite way.

Feliciano’s face was beautifully confused. “Trike?” he finally guessed. His voice didn’t sound too confident. He had a habit for thinking anything with two wheels was a bicycle, although he couldn’t remember the word “bicycle” and substituted “trike” for it, like the little red one that sat near the porch of their house.

“No, but close. It’s a Vespa,” Lovino corrected.

“Ves…?”

The Vespa had left their sights by now, but Lovino still stared after it. Even at a young age, he’d wanted to own and ride one. They seemed so cool. He almost didn’t hear Feliciano say it correctly, only looking down when his brother was tugging excitedly on the bottom of his shirt, shouting “Vespa!” Lovino had smiled, nodded, and took his brother’s hand to hold in his own.

“Vespa,” he affirmed, and his smile widened when Feliciano kept repeating the word. His brother really had been an adorable thing. Lovino had time to tousle his hair before their mother called for Lovino to come and help her inside, needing someone to dry the dishes. He hadn’t given a second thought to going inside, pulling Feliciano along with him.

His mother was at the sink, apron on and curly hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. She looked back to smile when she heard Lovino come in. “Hi, boys. Did I hear something about a Vespa?”

That, of course, set Feliciano off again, and their mother had laughed as she handed Lovino the rag. Lovino set to drying the dishes with considerate care, working alongside his mother as Feliciano’s clear yells of “Vespa!” continued through the house.

“I see you’re teaching your brother the important words again, Lovi. I’m so glad you two are getting along,” she’d said. She remembered how difficult of an adjustment it had been for Lovino to accept Feliciano.

Lovino nodded, barely sparing her a glance as he was busy with the dishes. He took all the jobs given to him very seriously _–_ had, anyway, at that age.

He remembered his mother ruffling his hair, the same way he’d done to Feliciano’s.

He remembered leaning against her, shutting his eyes and breathing in the smell of soap and her perfume, feeling so happy just to be spending time with her. Even if it was a mundane task they were sharing, it felt perfect to him

But most of all, he remembered the screech of a car outside, the resulting horn being sounded. And he remembered his mother’s scream when they’d gone out to see what was going on, the blood in the street, and his little brother’s body, twisted and so alien in death.

He remembered the funeral. No one had been smiling. All talk was confined to hushed voices and gentle whispers of consolation. His grandfather had stopped in the middle of the eulogy to hold Lovino because his parents were too busy holding each other. He remembered sobbing into the old man’s suit jacket, clutching desperately with hands too small to lift the Good Book.

They were the picture of a family broken. Not even a skilled carpenter like his grandfather could have fixed them.

 

It took years to move on, but Lovino could never say he fully recovered. He blamed himself, and he was pretty sure his mother did to an extent, too. They weren’t close before or after Lovino moved out to go work for his grandfather. Priesthood had seemed a natural course for him to take following high school. The church was one of his only comforts in his darkest moods. He could hide away there for hours to escape the real world. It wasn’t remotely fun like playing hide-and-seek with his grandfather had been, no, but he didn’t have much fun at all back in those days.  Why he even reminisced about such times was beyond him. It was all over and done with. There was nothing to be done. He needed to focus on the present, which for him right now meant a night in with his friend before they both had work in the morning.

“I shouldn’t be drinking,” Lovino said.

His drinking companion, a dark-haired man with curlier hair than his own, looked over at him. “I thought you wanted to, Lovi?” There was confusion behind the question, concern as well.

“I thought I did, Antonio,” he sighed, staring with dull eyes down to his drink. A glass of wine was fine with meals, but Lovino hadn’t eaten any supper and this was his third glass. His gaze drifted towards the one window in the room. The night was dark outside of the hotel room, the streetlamp outside not doing much to change that.

“I thought I did.”

 

Lovino was still staring out into the night when Antonio got up. He didn’t look to see what the other man was doing, but it became evident soon enough when the wine glass was taken gently from his hand and a new glass took its place.

“Drink up,” Antonio urged, sitting back in his seat. “You could use some water before bed. It will help. Tomorrow, you will wake up feeling better and refreshed for work.”

His assurances could have easily fallen on deaf ears for the lack of reaction Lovino gave them. He did, after a minute, lift the glass to his lips and drink, tasting the slight coppery tone of unfamiliar water on his tongue. Antonio broached a new topic as he drank, and Lovino was glad for something to fill the silence besides the howling wind outside and his oppressive thoughts inside. As much as he might complain about him, Antonio was a good person to have around when he wasn’t feeling his best. Lovino appreciated that there was someone else who could put up with him now that his grandfather was gone.

Antonio was still talking when he finished his water, but it wasn’t long afterwards that the two turned in for the night. Lovino had taken the bed nearest the window. It gave him something to do while he lay awake in bed, eyelids drooping but not yet closed so he could look out. Antonio’s chatter had been replaced with sounds of sleep.

Tomorrow would be a long day, he could already tell.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated! Thanks for reading!
> 
> I will get Chapter 2 out just as soon as I can. I don't mean to be a tease, but life is very real and taxing.
> 
> Also, I plan to continue this series with other forms of Prumano, so look out for that in the future.


	2. Dark Shapes in Darker Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I swear I'm not dead.

Morning was slow to come. Lovino watched the sunrise with the limited view afforded to him from the hotel window. His grandfather had been a firm believer in “early to bed, early to rise.” It wasn’t until the old man had passed on that Lovino’s body unwittingly followed the second half of that sentiment. He used to love sleeping in, wrapping himself up in the many blankets on his otherwise modest bed, cocooning himself practically until Nonno would come to wake him up to start the day. He’d really loved working with the old man despite the early mornings and his over-involvement in Lovino’s life.

No. Maybe he had liked working with him because of that last part. After his brother’s death, his parents had become all but absent. If not physically, then emotionally. His grandfather, on the other hand, had made it a point to stick his nose into every part of his life. While overbearing at times, Lovino could appreciate the attention looking back. It meant his grandfather had cared about him. There weren’t many people in his life that had given Lovino such an impression.

Antonio’s alarm went off a short time later. It was a pleasant sound, the kind intended specifically for a gentle wake-up call, not at all jarring which surprised Lovino given how heavy a sleeper his friend was. It seemed to do the trick, though; he heard rustling, feet on the floor, Antonio walking to the bathroom after shutting it off. He probably thought Lovino was still asleep. Lovino didn’t bother to correct his assumption. Only after Antonio left did he rise from bed himself.

The water turned on in the bathroom. Thin walls meant Lovino had to listen to every splash of water from the shower whether he wanted to or not. When Antonio came out, Lovino was already dressed and sitting on the bed. Lovino had known the man long enough to see that it unnerved him.

“Oh, Lovi! How long have you been awake? I didn’t mean to hog the shower,” he started, brushing his damp hair back from his forehead in a fruitless endeavor to keep it from dripping in his eyes.

“Not long. You should consider getting a haircut. It’s getting way too long.”

“Ah, it is, isn’t it?” And just like that, Antonio went from fussing over him to playing with his hair again. It was pretty easy to distract him. Lovino had learned some tricks over the last few months, although he couldn’t claim it took any skill or real insight. “I probably do. What do you think, wait until we’re back in Italy or chance a German haircut? I bet they’re really efficient.”

“If you want to completely butcher it, be my guest,” Lovino said with a shrug, eliciting a laugh from Antonio. He watched him go to the closet where their robes had been hung the night before, looking away when he pulled his off the hanger to put it on.

“I don’t think they could screw up that badly. It’s just hair, after all. It always grows back. Are you going to shower?” He must have seen the look on Lovino’s face, because he added before Lovino could so much open his mouth, “You’ll feel much better if you do. We have plenty of time, so don’t think of skipping out for that reason.”

He probably could use a shower, Lovino supposed. The trip to Germany had left him feeling grimy in the way that long travels did. He hadn’t bothered to shower the night they got in. Probably he should do so today, if only so he didn’t look a slob out in public. Antonio was looking at him with such an expectant smile that Lovino couldn’t shoot down the man so early in the day. His fate was sealed.

The cheer he was given for getting up and heading for the bathroom, like Lovino was actually doing something worthy of praise, was still wholly unnecessary.

 

They went down for breakfast after Lovino cleaned himself up. There was a surprising amount of people already there considering that the sign said breakfast had only started some 20 minutes ago. Lovino started out with just coffee, brows creased as he drank at the table for two he’d picked out. Antonio was still in line for food. He always had big breakfasts and although he wasn’t a picky eater at all, he had to ogle everything on the table like he’d never seen food before.

Lovino sipped his coffee in silence. The beans tasted too heavy on his tongue, gritty, and burnt. The coffee never tasted right outside of Italy. Lovino wouldn’t say he ever got homesick, but he did always miss the mornings spent with a real cup of coffee in his hands.

“Are you in mourning?”

A girl was staring at him. Lovino had noticed her across the room holding onto her mother’s hand, but what he hadn’t realized was that she had singled him out for conversation. When she came closer, the line shuffling forward slowly, Lovino could see bright blue eyes under her blonde fringe. They stared intently up at him.

“No. I’m a priest.” The robes had confused her, Lovino was sure. That was all. He and Antonio were the only ones who had worn all-black to the buffet.

That answer didn’t seem to stick with her. She pressed, “But you miss him, right?”

He was spared the trouble of responding when the girl’s mother--entirely oblivious her daughter was making small talk with a stranger--led her farther along in line, a man shortly blocking her from Lovino’s sight to look over the selection of meats. Lovino wondered if it was his imagination that he felt her eyes on him as he drank his coffee but didn’t dare look back. It took less time than predicted for Antonio to come over and join him, mouth running at 100 while Lovino’s mind struggled to get up to speed.

“What?” Lovino asked, glancing away from the line to him. Antonio started to repeat himself only for Lovino to cut him off, finally caught up. “No, I don’t know how long it will take. Probably no more than a couple hours of actual work. Are you in a hurry or something?”

“Oh, no, no. Not at all! I was just wondering,” Antonio said glibly, chatty as ever despite the hearty breakfast he had taken upon himself to eat. Apparently, he intended to split all that food since a roll was passed across the table. “It’s my first exorcism, so I’m not really sure what to expect. You must know everything there is to know, right? I mean, with your...oh, there’s jam on the inside of this! Not bad for a German breakfast, huh?”

It shouldn’t have surprised Lovino that the man had no idea what he was walking into. Better to let him down gently now so he didn’t cause a scene later in front of the people they were supposed to be helping. “Do you know anything about exorcisms?”

“Sure.” A moment passed wherein Antonio took a slow drink from his own coffee. “Someone gets possessed, and it’s up to guys like us--sorry, guys like _you_ to get rid of them. Right?”

“Yes, but there’s more to it than that--”

“Of course,” Antonio interrupted with a wave of his hand. Lovino might have taken offense had he not known him long enough. This was just typical Antonio. Not even he could afford to get upset over every little quirk of his. “You don’t have to spell it out. I’ve read up on some but honestly, I’d rather see you do it in person. It will be great, I’m sure. You’ll be great.”

Lovino’s noncommittal grunt didn’t phase him in the slightest. He just beamed and gave his attention back to breakfast, giving Lovino a chance to do the same as well as think over the plan for the day. The place they were going to wasn’t far from the hotel. A ride on the train would get them there within an hour. He had everything ready to go in his bag for when they arrived. Really, it shouldn’t take long at all, Lovino was sure of it. The commute would likely take longer than the actual exorcism whenever they got down to it.

Within the hour, they had left the hotel and were en route. People had been quick to give up their seats for two men of the robe. Only Antonio had seemed flustered about it, but he eventually thanked the insistent men before taking the seat. In comparison, Lovino had given a nod and sat down to zone out, eyes glazed as he looked out the side window. It was relaxing enough that he could almost fall asleep here, might have actually done so had a well-placed elbow from Antonio not startled him at the most inconvenient time. Lovino gave him a dirty look and in return got a brimming smile.

“Sorry. I forgot the address, and I know you’d written it down so I was wondering if--”

Lovino cut him off with pulling out a piece of paper from his bag and pushing it on Antonio. After that, he shut his eyes firmly and first leaned back, then against Antonio as time went on and consciousness slipped away. The last thing Lovino was aware of was the sound of crinkling paper as Antonio tried to smooth it on on his leg.

He didn’t fall into a deep sleep, not immediately. It was light enough that loud noises entered in though were sometimes misconstrued behind closed eyes. Someone’s ringtone conjured images of a great hall, empty, the stage lit by a single spotlight shining on no one. A piano played with no operator. Car horns brought a familiar yet far-off city scene, one that had been in his dreams before but Lovino would be hard-pressed to name the place had he been awake, and rainfall on the roof of their bus took him to a dark place that he swore he had never seen before, awake or otherwise.

The sound of water rushed around him. It grew to a deafening point that made Lovino want to cover his ears and hide himself away, but he couldn’t. There was no escape. Dark shapes, some small but many large, moved behind transparent walls. Their forms Lovino couldn’t make out clearly, but they were there, and they were closing in, pressing past his sense of security until--

“Lovi, we’re here,” Antonio whispered.

And just like that, it was over, the dream gone and Lovino awake. He couldn’t move straight away but managed  to get up before Antonio could start asking questions. They got off the bus and headed down the street towards the house at the end of the block.

 

What struck Lovino first about the house wasn’t its size or appearance. Not even Antonio’s hushed comment of, “It’s always the ones on the corner, huh?” made him think twice. It was an innocuous looking building, really, the sort that he wouldn’t have had issue with even if it was German-made. Rather, what clued Lovino in that maybe there would be more to this than a simple case of hysteria was the vibe he got once he stepped off from the main sidewalk onto the one leading up to the house.  There was a sudden pressure in his chest like something pushing against it, constricting him. He would have written it off as something purely psychological (or perhaps physiological; he hadn’t had much breakfast after all, and what he did have was _German_ ) if Antonio hadn’t chosen then to speak up again unprompted.

“Whoah...did you feel that?”

There was Lovino’s first sign that there was something off about the house. Even as he shook his head and went up to knock on the door, the feeling lingered within him that this wasn’t right. Something _was_ off with this place. Gut feelings like that didn’t come often. When they did they never steered him wrong.

“It’s the coffee. No telling how long it was in the pot. Be professional when they answer the door. Don’t give them a reason to think anything’s wrong,” Lovino told Antonio as well as himself. Now wasn’t the time to start thinking there was any truth to his grandfather’s stories. In fact, now was the absolute _worst_ time to go thinking that.

The door opened soon enough, a woman answering it. Ms. Janes, if Lovino remembered her name correctly. The smile she gave was pleasant enough, but Lovino could tell it wasn’t entirely genuine or without apprehension. “Hello. You must be Father Vargas. And you…?”

She looked at Antonio, confused. He offered his hand to her with a smile Lovino wouldn’t have to analyze to know was unquestioningly sincere. “Antonio Fernández, miss. I work with him at the church.”

“Good morning,” Lovino answered behind him, offering his own blink-and-you’d-miss-it smile. “Can we come in? I’d like to talk more to you about what you’ve noticed going on so I can get a better idea. I know we spoke some over the phone, but I’m guessing you might have more to offer than you did a week ago.”

Instinct drove him to share that last comment, but it wasn’t a miss; she looked surprised before quickly nodding. “Of course. Yes, you’re right actually. Please, come in.”

They were led inside. Lovino expected for the feeling he’d had outside the house to intensify, but there was no additional pressure on him as he entered the house. If anything, it seemed to diminish as the three of them went into the living room. Antonio paused to take his shoes off past the threshold and, after receiving a look from him, Lovino did the same before going over to the couch the woman had gestured to. As she went to grab something from the kitchen, Lovino sat down and took a look around the room. Nothing stood out at him. Pictures on the wall showed a bigger family than the lone figure he could hear in the other room. Whether they lived here or not, Lovino didn’t know. The other decor wasn’t overdone. It really was just another average house, one he would have written off in a heartbeat. He couldn’t, though. Not when both he and Antonio had felt something. He believed in coincidences, but not to such an extent.

Ms. Janes returned with a tray. Lovino hesitated before taking a glass of lemonade out of politeness. Antonio went ahead and did the same, grabbing a pastry for himself as well. “Thank you both for coming out here,” she said after she had sat down herself. “I know it’s out of your way, but I appreciate it.”

“It’s no trouble, miss.” How Antonio could beat him to the punch while stuffing his face was beyond Lovino. He didn’t try to interrupt the man, contenting himself to listening while he sipped his lemonade. It was a lot nicer than the coffee, that was for sure. “We’re glad to help. Can you tell us a bit about what’s going on here? Oh, sorry. Did you want to lead, Lovi?”

And just listening had been taken off the table. Lovino shook his head and set his glass down. “It’s fine. You said something else _had_ happened since we spoke on the phone? Start there.”

Ms. Janes nodded, looking down at her feet as she seemed to gather her thoughts. Neither of the priests tried to rush her. Finally, she turned her gaze back up, switching it between the two periodically as she talked. “Well, I told you about how things would come on by themselves. First it was just lights. I’d wake up in the middle of the night and notice that the bathroom light would be on, or the hallway, when I knew I’d turned everything off before bed. Then there was the cat. I had his litter box downstairs at our old house, but he refuses to go into the basement here. He hisses and growls if I try to make him.”

This was all old news to Lovino. She had said as much during their initial conversation. Antonio, on the other hand, was quite literally sitting on the edge of his seat. He’d even put aside the second pastry he had grabbed to listen, eyes and ears taking it all in. “Lights and an animal acting funny,” he mused, looking from her to Lovino with eyebrows raised. “That is something, isn’t it?”

Lovino forced his eyes to keep from rolling. “It could be. But have you noticed anything new?”

“Oh, yes. I said it was just the lights at first that would turn on, but now it’s other things.” She ticked them off on her fingers as she continued, “I have an old stereo system that’s started playing music at night. I don’t even remember plugging it in, but it’s definitely turned on. I found it one night playing a CD I don’t remember putting in there. I don’t even remember owning that CD! And this old weather radio I have for emergencies--I heard it just last night like someone was trying to tune it.”

“Anything else?” Antonio asked.

She nodded again. “The TV.”

At once three sets of eyes turned toward the television in the room. It was an older model, early 2000s or maybe even ‘90s if Lovino had to guess.

“It’s turned on every day this last week. Always at midnight, and sometimes again at two or three in the morning. _Always_ a different channel than the one I’ve left it on.”

Lovino pursed his lips and frowned, still studying the set. “Have you tried unplugging it from the wall?”

“Yes. That’s the funny thing...I know I have, but when I go to turn it off, it’s plugged right back in. At first I thought it was just my son, Daniel. He’s stayed up late before watching TV, but he denied plugging it in, and when I check on him afterwards, he’s always fast asleep in bed. He doesn’t even wake up when the TV turns on.”

“And your son...where is he now? School?”

“Yes, and I’ve arranged for him to spend the night at a friend’s house just in case.”

Before, Lovino would have considered this overkill. Now all he said was, “That’s a good idea. I hope to be out of your hair by morning at the latest.”

“It’s really no trouble to me,” she replied, and this time Lovino thought there was more warmth to her smile. “I did find a place to stay myself like you suggested, but if you two need anything, I’ve left the number on a sheet by the phone. Please do call if anything comes up.”

“We will! Absolutely, miss.” Antonio stood up and went to shake her hand again. “We’ll have this all sorted out for you in no time, I give you my word! And Lovino’s his!”

“I don’t--sure,” Lovino muttered and ran a hand through his hair. He got to his feet and helped Antonio walk Ms. Janes to her car. There they said their goodbyes, the two men waving her off as she backed out into the street. Once the car was out of sight, Lovino turned to his companion, face one of incredulity. “Really? You had to drag me into that? We don’t even know if there’s anything to ‘sort out.’ This might just be in her head. She _did_ just move here two months ago, did you know that?”

Antonio seemed to disregard his concern. _Shocking_ , Lovino thought to himself, scowling as he was clapped on the back and then hugged with the same arm. “I know you can help her, Lovi. I wouldn’t give my word to anything I didn’t believe in.”

“How touching,” he said dryly, shrugging the arm off to walk back inside. No change in pressure again that Lovino could tell from leaving and reentering the house. If not for the simple sense of unease he had, he could have convinced himself that this was as open-and-shut as it had seemed back in Italy. “But next time let me do the talking, dumbass. You're too quick with your words.”

"Is that a bad thing?" Seeing Lovino's nod, Antonio furrowed his brows slightly. "Huh. Well, what now?"

Lovino took a good look around the inside of the house. If all of the disturbances seemed to be occurring primarily during the night, they would have to stay until morning to monitor things. In other words, just what he  _hadn't_ wanted to do.

"Grab the bags," he said decisively. "Let's get started."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I do read all of your comments even if I take forever in replying to them. Those and all your kudos really make my day.
> 
> There was a comment left asking about why this was rated so highly, and after some thought I bumped it down to M. I was originally going to put something in that I felt would have warranted it, but I'll keep the rating lower for now since I'll probably take a different direction anyway. I'll be sure to update the tags if anything comes up and put warnings in the appropriate chapters in case people would like to avoid unpleasant things. I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable here.
> 
> Chapter 3 is when Lovino and Gilbert meet. I'm determined to get that out before the end of the month, so hopefully not quite the long delay as this chapter was in coming.


	3. Introductions Are Inarguably the Roughest

The smell of sage greeted him upon re-entering the house. It encompassed the rooms on the main floor, bathing them in its comforting scent. He’d asked Antonio to light it for him, a plate to each room to ensure it permeated the rest of the house. His grandfather had been adamant about the importance of its use before anything else took place for an exorcism. It was an easy step, but Lovino had still made Antonio set it all up and light it for him.

“Find anything outside?” Antonio asked, looking up from the last bundle he was setting up, the biggest, which was to go to the basement. Neither of them had been down there yet. “Besides the cat, I mean.” When Lovino gave him a bemused look, he laughed. “You have cat’s fur all over your robe.”

Lovino swore and hastily reached down to try to clear what he now saw was an abundant amount of hair along the bottom of his robe, almost like some kind of embroidery. “I was _investigating_. He wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“Aw, he was helping you!”

“Shut up.” He sat down on the couch, grabbing his bag to rifle through. “Nothing. I found exactly nothing. The only way into the house is through the front. All of the windows have screens except for the basement. They don’t look easy to take out. The basement one’s too small for any person to get through.”

Antonio didn’t seem surprised, and neither was Lovino. He had developed a healthy amount of skepticism towards claims of the supernatural. Nevertheless, he didn’t think this was a case of someone breaking and entering to harass.

He continued, “No footprints, no marks -- no sign of anything that could explain things.”

“That would have been the easy way out,” Antonio noted, to which Lovino grunted an affirmative. “So what now? The basement?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his forehead, smoothing out the deep frown threatening to etch premature lines into his skin. At the moment he would have preferred to get rid of the uneasiness which clung to him like damp clothes. “What do you think the chance of her faking this is?”

“You think she’d do that?”

When he looked over, Lovino saw Antonio’s expression was as shocked as his tone sounded at the suggestion. He shrugged. “It’s the most likely explanation. Don’t tell me you buy into everything without convincing evidence, which may I remind you has _not_ been provided for us here. We only have her word for it. Why the Church thought it a good idea to go to all this trouble without launching a proper investigation first is beyond me.”

Antonio looked unconvinced. “Maybe, but I don’t see why she’d lie. What would be her motivation? And she does look to me like a woman who’s lost sleep over this.”

“Then it’s her son. I don’t know. We probably won’t have anything happen tonight because he, the culprit, is gone. Kids do this shit all the time.”

“Ah? Were you the type of kid who pranked his parents?”

Lovino grabbed the pillow beside him to throw at Antonio. To his dissatisfaction, the man caught it, and not with his face. “No, I wasn’t. I was a perfect angel, so fuck you for suggesting otherwise.” He scoffed before he got up. “Holy water?”

“Right here.”

He took the bottle extended to him. Antonio stood up with the bundle in hand, studying him as Lovino did the same to the bottle. It was small, only half the size of the wine bottles with which he shared more familiarity with, its surface smooth as his thumb rubbed long lines, betraying his restlessness.

“You’ve got this, Lovi,” he heard Antonio say.  “You’re the best there is, you know.”

Lovino glanced up. The smile Antonio gave him did nothing to make him feel better. They both knew he wasn’t equipped to deal with this if there was anything of substance lurking down below the very floorboards on which they stood. Antonio was a good friend, but a terrible liar. He was pretty sure the man hadn’t even convinced himself that everything would be okay.

“My grandfather was the best,” Lovino said simply and went to open the basement door. There was no objection as he turned the brass knob in his hand, though a loud creak did sound when he finally swung the door open.

A click he heard next, and light shone over his shoulder from the beam of Antonio’s flashlight. Slowly, Lovino made his way down the steps. Each one he put his weight down on protested louder than the last. It wasn’t even that old of a house, he had thought. Only the basement seemed ancient the farther he got into it. Dust tickled his nose, daring him to sneeze and disrupt the ominous quiet.

He looked around once his feet hit solid ground. Concrete, not earth, he noticed. It would make a horrible landing if anyone ever happened to trip on the way down the stairs. “She said there should be a light switch around here.”

Antonio located it while Lovino looked around. He had seen bigger, notably his own church’s, but all the dark, empty spaces made this basement seem deceptively huge. There was a rapid clicking sound before Antonio said, “It’s burnt out. Should I go get the candles?”

Lovino gave a terse sigh, thinking. “Yes, but I’m coming with you --”

The basement lit with light. It was sudden enough to startle Lovino, make him lose his train of thought. The source was a solitary bulb hanging in the center, hardly enough to even touch on the corners. Antonio gave a laugh that almost sounded nervous, but it could have just been relief.

“Well, that’s convenient, isn’t it?”

“Uh-huh…’convenient,’ all right.”

“And a good omen,” Antonio said, following him as he walked slowly around the basement. There wasn’t a lot to see: old boxes sat against the far wall, some open while others looked like they had just come off the moving truck. Lovino noticed something in one of the corners and walked over. He crouched, then reached out to grab and bring the object up for closer examination. He was acutely aware of Antonio peering over his shoulder all the while.

“Is...is it a clue?”

This time, Lovino did let his eyes roll. “It’s a cat toy. Hardly a clue.” He stood and chucked the toy mouse away, continuing his tour of the basement.

“Oh, I guess you’re right…”

Lovino thought that would be the end of it before Antonio went on, “I just thought maybe it would be on account of the cat not liking the basement.”

He stopped, turned around to face Antonio, frowned first at him, then the toy that he’d tossed aside without a second thought. A loud sigh came out. “Shit.”

Antonio was looking curiously at it now himself when Lovino went over to grab the bundle of sage from his arms. He handed over his lighter after a prompting look so he could light it. With how small the bundle was in comparison to the size of the room, it didn’t do a lot more to illuminate the pressing darkness. The smell was the more welcome addition. Lovino looked around before moving to set it in the center of the floor.

“You’re probably right, that it’s nothing. I was just trying to be helpful --”

“It’s fine.”

“I really wasn’t trying to second-guess you or any --”

“It’s _fine,_  Antonio.”

The flame grew and spread across the bundle. Hopefully, the sage would counteract the musty smell of the basement. If they were going to go ahead with a full cleansing, Lovino would rather have a more pleasant smell while he worked.

He pulled the holy water out from the pocket of his robe that he had stashed it in while lighting the sage. There was barely time for him to uncap the bottle before Antonio said, “Oh, are we starting already?”

“Yes. Come over here.” With his free hand, Lovino made the sign of the cross. “ _Nel nome del Padre e del Figlio, e dello Spirito Santo. Amen._ ”

He did the same for Antonio, pausing for a slight second when he caught sight of the man’s face. No signs of a smile. It was the most serious he had ever seen him. Lovino next lifted the bottle over his head. A light few shakes was enough to sprinkle him adequately. Again, he moved to give the same treatment to his colleague. He gave Antonio more of a light dousing than sprinkling for good measure, but there was no complaint from him. It was starting to unnerve Lovino slightly. Pushing it from his mind, he capped the bottle and moved to get down on his knees to pray. Antonio followed suit before he could think to tell him to do as much.

_“Padre nostro, che sei nei cieli,_

_sia santificato il tuo nome…”_

The concrete wasn’t dissimilar from the hard floors of the church he’d knelt in before. It made it all the easier for Lovino to quell the strange case of apprehension he felt and focus on finishing out the prayer.

_“Venga il tuo regno,_

_sia fatta la tua volontà, come in cielo così in terra...”_

He felt something like a tremor run through him. Behind closed eyes he could see nothing, though Lovino could have sworn the light above flickered. Or perhaps it was swinging? He swallowed thickly to break the cloying silence.

_“D...dacci oggi il nostro pane quotidiano,_

_e rimetti a noi i nostri debiti_

_come noi li rimettiamo ai nostri debitori,_

_e non ci indurre in tentazione…”_

_“Ma liberaci dal male,”_ Antonio murmured from beside him.

They finished together the “amen.” First thing, Lovino opened his eyes to check the light bulb. He found it unmoving, unblinking. Antonio offered him a hand up, which he accepted, getting to his feet and brushing the dust off from his robes. There were plenty more prayers to go through, but Lovino felt more comfortable standing to do them. He wasn’t sure whether Nonno would approve or not. The old man had been quite adamant about remaining humbled when convening with the Lord. There was only Antonio here to judge him, though, and so far he was doing an uncanny job of keeping quiet.

His nerves were starting to return in stronger force, building with every few lines of prayer said. Minutes passed with nothing more happening than Lovino’s steady stream of words and Antonio’s occasional “amen” or other affirmation. He felt as though he were being watched. Where was this paranoia coming from? It was completely unwarranted. Lovino thought maybe when they finished the cleansing, it would leave.

He finished out with mixing the salt he had blessed some moments ago with the holy water, saying the closing prayer, and letting out a low sigh.

“That was...something. Wow. Do you think it worked?”

Lovino shrugged and capped the bottle to slip it back into his pocket. “Assuming there was anything, it should. I did all I could.”

Yet as he trudged up the stairs, leaving the sage to continue burning, Lovino felt his gut churn with the lie.

   
  
He sat on the couch while Antonio cooked in the kitchen. Normally, Lovino would help out, but Antonio had insisted on "doing his share of the work," whatever that meant. He hadn't argued, taking to the couch to sit down and watch the news. There was channel in English, so Lovino left it on that. It provided some much-needed background noise until the food was done. When it came time for dinner, he turned it off and left to go eat with Antonio at the table. 

"I can stay up if you want to get some rest," Antonio offered halfway through the meal. "We can take shifts."

"Fine, but I'm sleeping on the couch," Lovino said, picking over the last of his food. They really hadn't eaten much between the both of them, so there was plenty left over for the family when they returned. Hopefully Ms. Janes didn't mind Antonio raiding her kitchen in the first place.

"Sure! Whatever you want. But why?"

"I don't want to be holed up in a bedroom in case something happens." And he felt like something would. Lovino didn't think much of premonitions, but tonight would be the exception he made for them.

"Okay. I'll stay here at the table."

Antonio got up to clear their plates, taking Lovino's after he pushed it towards him. Lovino waited a minute before getting up after him to help out. There wasn't much more conversation before the two went their separate ways, Lovino to bed and Antonio to...wherever it was he was going. Lovino had tuned out his chattering. After the day he'd had, he was just too tired for interaction. That same tiredness might have been the reason that he fell asleep in record time that night, for once not kept up by his thoughts.

 

He awoke not to darkness, but the glow of television.

_“Now, folks, you’re in for a real treat tonight!”_ said the host of some show that Lovino didn’t even think was German. He stared. The thought came to him that he might still be dreaming, although that in and of itself meant he had to be awake...right?

The channel changed, indicated only by sound; the screen remained static.

_“I’d like to present my next guest of the night --”_

A new station.

_“He’s a real character, all the way from down under!”_

Another one.

_“So let’s get ready to RRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUMBLE!”_

And another, this time in a language that sounded familiar but which Lovino had no fluency in.

He stood upright and quickly moved to unplug the set. The picture went out, but only briefly before it turned back on of its own accord. He had time to check that it was indeed still unplugged before there was sudden light from his right.

There was fire in the kitchen.

“What the _FUCK_ !” he swore, then hurried over to turn off the stove. The flames were higher than they had any right to be, practically licking the ceiling. Unlike the television, the stove didn’t go out even after Lovino turned it off.

“ _Streaming live to you from Dante’s Inferno, this is the Hellcats!”_ Now the radio was getting in on the fun. Lovino couldn’t be bothered with it when there was six-foot pillars of fire in front of him. It played something that could have passed for music in a metalworks factory that was also on fire.

He did the thing he should have done in the first place and grabbed the phone, punching in the emergency number.

_“I’m sorry, but the number you’re trying to reach has been disconnected,”_ said a voice that sounded eerily familiar through the line.

He threw the phone and booked it for the front door, another very logical thing that he should have done to begin with.  Before he could get more than a few steps towards it, Lovino saw smoke. It was coming from someplace else, up from the basement -- and when had _that_ door even been opened? He was sure they had closed it after the cleansing.

It came towards him in a dark cloud. He had only time to gasp before it was upon him, obscuring his vision completely. It filled his lungs, and the coughing began before he could pull his robe up in front of his mouth.  Somehow, even with all of that going on, he heard the music start up. Real music this time. Pounding rock of the most annoying kind was what it would have have been written off by Lovino any other day. In this moment, it was a terrifying cacophony adding to his confusion.

Then, as if on some hidden cue, it all stopped.

Silence reigned, challenged only by Lovino’s frantic heartbeat in his ears. He kept the makeshift mask of robe in front of his mouth before cautiously lowering it. The air smelled smoky, but not as strong as he would have expected for how much of it had filled the room only a minute ago. The TV was off, he saw, as was the stereo player. There was no fire to be seen.

He saw a figure outlined in smoke, standing in the doorway of the basement.

“An...Antonio?”

It wasn’t Antonio, that Lovino knew before the question left his mouth. He reached into his pocket.

“Do you really think that little bottle’s going to do anything against me?” a voice he didn’t recognize asked.

The bottle in question almost slipped from his hand, but he made a last-ditch grab with his fingers to keep his hold and brought it out. It very nearly fell again, though, when the smoke cleared more and let him really see the person addressing him --

“You’re going for it anyway, huh? I see. Fair enough.”

\-- although “person” might not have been the best descriptor. Whatever stood in front of him was tall and incredibly broad-shouldered. Its eyes were crimson, peering at him intently.  Lovino looked lower down to the wicked smile and paused at the sight of teeth that could have held a sharper edge than his favorite knife back home. He swallowed, throat suddenly too dry.

“Stay away from me,” Lovino warned, taking a few steps back, unscrewing the cap to his holy water without ever taking his eyes off the thing.

_Demon_ , his mind whispered, something that his intuition quickly backed up and that was all but confirmed when _it_ stepped closer to him.

What he had thought to be broad shoulders spread out, revealing themselves to be all-black wings. They kept spreading until they brushed along either side of the room, a distance of at least 10-12 feet. There was a certain familiar shine to them, a glossy appearance that had Lovino stumped before the simple answer came to him: they were birds’ wings. Granted, to a much larger scale, but they looked no different than what might be on a raven or crow.

“Hey, kid?”

It was talking to him again. Lovino tore his eyes away from the wings that seemed to take up almost all of the little living room. They met red. He saw the demon smirk.

“I know I’m great to look at and all, but let’s talk first, okay? Then you can stare to your heart’s content. What’s -- oh, again with the holy water?” it asked, seeming almost exasperated while Lovino’s trembling fingers worked on getting the lid off. Once it was all the way off, he swung the bottle roughly forward to send its contents flying out into the air, soaking the front half of the demon.

Lovino had never asked his grandfather what exact effect holy water had on demons for the simple reason that he’d never believed in them. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting to happen here now. Certainly not the demon staring stone-faced at him for what seemed like a small eternity and then laughing. And god, that laughter would haunt his dreams, he was sure; in the same octave as a hyena’s cry, it howled with amusement before starting to stalk forward, sending Lovino scrambling back until he hit something solid, a bookshelf maybe.

“Great trick, kid. You got me good! It’ll be hours before I’m dry again.” It grinned, sending shivers down his spine. It had gotten close enough that Lovino could make out individual feathers on its wings, which truly were surrounding him now. He felt like prey, penned in by a predator in preparation for slaughter. “What’s your name now? Let’s have it.”

He felt sick, stomach clenching and curling uncomfortably. His eyes burned. But for whatever reason, he couldn’t bring himself to look away from those eyes even when a hand came up to cup his chin. The revulsion intensified briefly with its touch. Oddly enough, the sense of cool that spread from its hand to Lovino’s face was more prominent. He couldn’t speak, could only stare helplessly up into his death. Lovino figured that was what this was all leading up to. Why _wouldn’t_ something straight from the depths of hell kill him? It would toy with him first, like a cat with a mouse, before ultimately ending his life and dragging him down to its master.

“I’ve been wanting to meet you,” it whispered, cold fingers stroking the fallen tears from his cheek. Lovino’s throat seized like an invisible force was choking him. How was he supposed to talk when he could barely breathe? “It’s the least you can do, telling me your name. You’ve kept me waiting for so long...”

Lovino shuddered and turned his head. His eyes shut tightly to block out everything. This was another dream, just another dream taken to a nightmarish extreme. The breath tickling his ear was the wind from a window he’d left open, nothing more. The cold touch on his cheek? His pillow that he’d flipped over in his sleep, cool side up. The distant crash could be anything.

“Leave me alone. God, leave me alone…!”

A throaty chuckle turned his stomach with how it seemed to be right in his ear. “God’s not here with you. _I_ am.” It sounded so fiendishly delighted with the statement that Lovino couldn’t hold back a moan. Where was his holy water? Had he dropped it? His hands felt so far away, like they weren’t even a part of him anymore.

As if trying to comfort him in his distress, the demon started stroking his cheek and petting his hair. Gentle as it was being, Lovino was still terrified. It was like a crude replication of his mother’s touch.

“Tell me your name,” it insisted, words wet on his ear. Or maybe that was its tongue? The thought sent additional shudders running  through him. “Tell me. _Tell me, what’s your name? Tell me_ \--”

Another crash, this time closer. Lovino felt the demon move back to look. Now that there was some distance between them, he was able to open his eyes and look for himself.

The front door had been forced open. In the doorway was Antonio, chest heaving with exertion. His eyes met Lovino’s and his mouth opened, whether in shock or to actually say something Lovino didn’t know. He wanted to yell out to him, but his throat wasn’t working yet. Antonio apparently didn’t need any sign to storm over. Common sense should have stopped him. Lovino was glad that for once it did not.

The demon turned sideways to get a better look at him without letting Lovino go. Its hand had fallen from his hair to the back of his neck. The hold struck Lovino as possessive. “You again? Thought I took care of you already,” it said, affecting a perfectly unbothered air like it was dealing with an annoying but unimportant pest.

Lovino watched Antonio get closer, fist pulled back. He saw the demon raise its own hand -- too late. Antonio clocked it square in the face. It screeched, releasing him to cover its face. Lovino finally, _finally_ was able to scramble away from it, aided by Antonio grabbing and then pushing him away towards the door.

“In the name of the Lord, begone with you!” Antonio yelled. In his hand was a crucifix, shining in the glow of moonlight.

“Stop!” it yelled, still holding its face. It sounded like it was in pain.

“I cast you out, unclean spirit!”

“Stop! Stop _talking_!”

“I cast you out in the name of our Lord, Jesus Christ!”

The light grew brighter. Lovino didn’t think it was moonlight anymore. It was coming directly out of the crucifix.

“ _I SAID_ **_STOP_ ** _!”_ it bellowed, and the walls shook with its roar. Lovino could feel the vibrations under his his feet and those that ran right through him. His ears popped. The demon had stopped recoiling and stood tall again, both hands up in the air. They looked more like claws to Lovino now, nothing like what had been caressing him minutes ago.

Antonio didn’t stop. He was still speaking, just in a different language now. Frazzled as he was, Lovino was fairly sure it was Spanish. Antonio made to cross himself, but before he could the demon swung both its arms in with a yell, and a mighty wind came and knocked both from their feet. The last thing Lovino felt was shattered glass hitting his back from the window after he landed heavily on his front.

 

There was a ringing in his ears when he came to. He rolled over, glass crunching under his weight. Someone was standing over him.

“Wake up.”

The demon was talking to him.

“Wake up, Lovino!”

It was his name that got Lovino to open his eyes. He stared up at it. There was dried blood around its nose, but that wasn’t the most striking thing Lovino noticed; it looked like some of its face had gotten burned. Seeing his eyes open, it seemed to relax. Then, it crouched down in front of him, too close for comfort again.

“Good. You’ve only been out for a minute. Threw you harder than I meant to...sorry about that.”

The demon was _apologizing_ to him. He had to be dreaming.

Lovino tried to sit up, but firm hands on his shoulders kept him down.

“Don’t. Let me check you over first.”

The hands swept up and down his body, presumably looking for signs of damage. Lovino could have told it that it wasn’t going to find anything -- only his back and head hurt -- but he didn’t. Something about the demon’s face had robbed him of speech again. It didn’t look angry or in pain. There was some other emotion to its expression that he couldn’t place.

Its hands cradled his head, carefully feeling for any bumps. It touched a spot around the back, and Lovino hissed lightly.

“Sorry,” it said automatically and withdrew from the area. Lovino found it hard to believe that the thing that had sent him and Antonio flying was being perfectly careful with him.

He _had_ to be dreaming. There was just no way any of this was real. That was what he kept telling himself, but he had yet to wake up in his own bed and prove it right.

He felt the hands move south, pulling at the bottom of his robe, but before they got it up more than a few inches, Lovino grabbed at the wrists to stop them. The demon stared at him questioningly. He wet his lips before speaking slowly, “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

Lovino nodded -- started to, but then stopped when his head protested. “Yeah. Fine.”

“Okay.”

He let out a sigh when the hands pulled back, leaving his body. He wasn’t given much time before the demon spoke again.

“Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot here. Can we try this again?” When Lovino only stared blankly, it clarified, “We should have a proper meet-and-greet. You know, a real introduction. I’ll go first this time. Name’s Gilbert. What’s yours?”

“You know my name.”

It frowned at him. Lovino frowned back, silently accusing.

“Oh, come off it! I only know because your _friend_ wouldn’t stop yelling it when I locked him out of the house. That’s hardly my fault.” It sounded petulant. Was this really the same thing that had been whispering in his ear earlier?

When Lovino didn’t say anything, it gave an aggravated-sounding huff, composed itself, and tried again. “All right. We’ll start off on the shitty foot then. You’re still going to talk to me, right?”

“I’m...what?” Lovino looked at him, frown turned puzzled. It was getting harder to think of the demon as an it when he was acting almost human now. And had a name. The wings had folded back in, taking away some of earlier claustrophobia he had felt.

He, Gilbert, stood up. “Talk to me,” he repeated. “Use your words and form coherent sentences. Sound good?”

“What did you do to Antonio?”

“Oh, so you _can_ talk when you want to,” Gilbert muttered. He turned around and walked a little ways away from Lovino, swinging his arms. Occasionally, he’d gesture with his hand, sending something up from the floor to its proper place. Lovino only now noticed what a mess the house was. Books, knickknacks, and just about anything else that had been up on a flat surface was scattered around like debris. “I tied him up.”

“You _what_?”

“To the train tracks. Kidding! Hey, don’t look at me like that.” Another gesture, and the television came back on. The evening news was on the screen for half a second before Gilbert started going through the channels, not seeming to have to move a muscle for the task. “He’s in the other room. He’s fine, don’t worry. I just put him to sleep for a while to cool off. He’ll wake up in a couple hours. Let’s talk.”

Lovino clenched his jaw. “What makes you think I want to talk to you. You _are_ a demon, are you not?”

“Uh, last I checked. You want to see my ID or something?”

“No. Can you turn that off?” The constant channel-surfing was adding to his growing headache.

The television powered off with a sweep of Gilbert’s hand, then the demon was looking at him instead. Lovino almost regretted asking for him to turn it off. He still felt uneasy under those eyes.

“Talk to me.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“ _Please_?”

“No! Stop asking!” Lovino snapped. The annoyance he felt was greater than any fear in the moment. It helped that Gilbert wasn’t acting particularly threatening. He was just _annoying_ now. “You’re really irritating for a demon.”

That had an unintended effect on Gilbert; he perked up and snickered. “Careful. Some might say this constitutes talking.”

“And my point stands.”

“Heh, whatever you say.”

Gilbert walked back over to him. Lovino moved up into a sitting position, though didn’t yet stand. He didn’t want to when Gilbert was right over him, and he also didn’t want to start moving too much on the ground with all that glass around.

“Just talk to me. You want me out of this poor woman’s house, right? Let’s talk and I’ll consider it,” he said, offering a hand to him. "Oh, and I’ll also let your little friend go.”

“Why should I trust you?”

Gilbert looked smug in spite of the wary look Lovino was giving him. “You don’t really have much choice, do you? I’m just being nice by offering.”

A valid point, but Lovino was no less reluctant because of it. His eyes glanced around, searching for an escape that simply wasn’t in existence. Gilbert had even shut and locked the door while he hadn’t been looking.

God, he wished he were dreaming.

“So what do you say, kid?”

Lovino looked between the outstretched hand –- pale but strong, a small constellation of scars mapping the skin –- and the man’s face. Sharp eyes stared back at him.  There was hellfire in his gaze, depravity in the curve of his lips.

He took the hand without a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is coming out a lot later than planned, but I made the chapter longer. Hopefully that makes up somewhat for it. Thanks for reading, as always, and for all the comments and kudos. Seeing those really helps when you're in a writing slump like I've been in. <3
> 
> No promises on when Chapter 4 will be out. I'm hoping to do more writing over the upcoming holiday break sooo maybe December-January I'll get something out. I've got an idea for a one-shot that I'd like to write, too, which might possibly come out before the chapter.


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